


Wave Length

by Kristylee



Category: Hannibal - Fandom
Genre: Creature!Hannibal, M/M, hannishark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-22 02:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14298588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kristylee/pseuds/Kristylee
Summary: Based on @camillecallioux's #Hannishark on Twitter.Happy birthday, Cassie!





	Wave Length

Some say it's a lonely existence. To sit at the top of a lighthouse and be content there is something a serial killer would enjoy. Will Graham is not a serial killer, he just hates people, and the island is desolate as they come. The waves bring in fishermen to the small market, but nothing more. It's not so lonesome with his music and books. He prefers to be left alone.

Each morning, Will hikes along the beach to the dock where boats lay anchor and vendors hock their fish and meat. The ocean’s salt breathes into his jacket and boots, sprays of waves lick at his ankles. The sun rises high overhead and counters the wind.

Will buys what he needs and heads back to the lighthouse. He speaks softly when it's necessary and nods to people in passing. The fishermen never stay long. 

The paint on the outside of the lighthouse chips away in large swaths. It's old and still needs repairs, but it is home despite its flaws; it keeps the people out. 

Will cooks breakfast and eats it at the top of the tower, overlooking the ocean and craggy rocks. 

He throws bread to the gulls from the window and sees a commotion out at the rocks by the docking pier. There is a beast caught in somebody’s cruel net. The blood is visible and Will aches for the creature. He forgoes a coat and runs to the rocks at the edge of the beach. He takes his shot gun with him, also useful for keeping people out.

The creature is silver and gray and when the light hits it's fins and skin, it is nearly pink, almost a man. Will cocks the gun as he nears, jaw clenched. The men torment the injured shark-like creature, caught and flailing in the net, helpless without the water. 

“Heyyy!” Will barks and aims to shoot at nothing. The men all startle and the creature hisses like cat at the noise.

“Back up,” Will orders with as much venom in his voice as he can muster. The men scatter to their boats or the market where the bar is opening for the day.

Will is left alone with the monster, bucking and hissing. He puts down his gun and pulls his knife from his pocket. He approaches with hands raised.

“I won't hurt you. I want to help you,” he whispers, barely heard over the waves. The skin, smooth and unblemished as a pearl radiates a vivid black around the fins and lips. It's teeth bare but it makes no move to threaten Will.

Carefully, slowly Will cuts the first of the ropes, then the next, around the elongated fins of its feet, and with such caution, from its neck, dug deeply into the gills.

“You poor creature.” Will can't help but slide his fingers over the chest, cool and smooth as ice. “You're free.”

The animal rises up, gills dry, eyes focused on Will’s. They hold the contact for a moment. Will retains his breath where it is stuck in the back of his throat. The eyes of this creature are red, but black in the sunlight.

And then it's gone with a splash to the water’s surface.

Will doesn't sleep. There are constant dreams of the shark man when he is able to. A touch of cool skin, a hiss of despair. Will tosses and turns each night, unsettled greatly by the creature. He watches the shore sometimes, in hopes of seeing it there.

A walk along the beach at night is the perfect remedy for sleepless hours. Will allows the sand, both wet and dry to stick to his soles and toes. Sweatpants damp at the bottom, though rolled above his ankles. The air is humid enough to go without a shirt. Nobody is around but the stars and waves. Will sighs into the breeze and it carries to the water, a despondent, broken thing.

Will walks until the lighthouse is just a ray of yellow-orange light in the distance. It's could be three or four in the morning. It doesn't matter. He squinted helplessly into the water, black in the moon’s light, gray at the crash on the rocks. He settles there, a flattened rock for a seat. He skips tiny pebbles and shells into the darkness and thinks of the shark body. 

The creature was beautiful. An almost angelic quality about it - him. Will recalls strong facial features and desperate red eyes, black in the sunlight, shiny as polished onyx. And more noticeably, two soft, heavy cocks between his legs, dark with private intentions. Will feels his face warm at the thought. Will wonders what words - if words it spoke - he would say at Will’s thoughts on his body, lithe and animal.

Then there is a solid, quiet splash in the water, close by. Will looks around, startled and embarrassed. In the water, just feet away the creature floats, eyes on Will.

For several seconds Will doesn't blink or move not wanting to frighten him away. His hand between the rocks, he feels a sharp pebble on his palm and presses it firmly to hold back his excitement. He grits his teeth. The shark man swims closer. And closer. Will lets out a breath, harsh and fast as he and the creature are two feet apart, separated by rocks alone. 

Will fears words, don't scare him away. The creature shines in the moonlight. Damn near opalescent. Will wants to touch the sleek skin, just out of curiosity, out of childlike wonder. The shark man opens its mouth slowly. It's arm bends, hand reaching past the jagged sharp teeth and into its throat. It pulls out a small brightly colored fish and lays it on a rock between them.

Will looks between the fish and the creature. And then again, confused. Finally, the creature takes Wills hand and places it on the dead fish. 

“For me? You want me to have it?” Will tests this theory out, taking the fish and holding it to his chest. A crooked, frightening smile takes over the creature’s face, mouth drawn wide, eyes squinting. The fish is a thank you for saving him from those fishermen.

“Thank you,” Will says gently. “I have no fucking clue what to do with it, but thank you.”

The shark man lays his finned hand to Will’s cheek. It is cold, wet and smooth. The water drips down Wills cheek and neck and it makes him shiver.

“I don't...believe this. I'm Will.”

The creature moves his tongue as Will did but no sound comes from his mouth. 

“Will.”

Nothing.

Will points to himself with his free hand. “Will,” he says again. “That's my name.” He pauses and the hand slips from his cheek. “You need a name.”

He dredges up old, lovely names from books he's read. The creature stares at him as he tries out names. No reaction is gauged until Will mutters “Hannibal.”

“You can go by Hannibal. It suits you.” It does. It's strong and foreign and terrifying, but stunning to say, just as this creature is to see.

“Hannibal,” Will whispers. He reaches his hand out to touch Hannibal, to solidify this connection. His fingers land softly on the blue-black lips, freezing under his touch. He runs his thumb across Hannibal’s mouth, so close to all those horrendous teeth. He smiles. Hannibal smiles too.

With a last look, Hannibal dives away into the water, leaving Will to clutch a small dead fish all alone.

Several weeks go by with no sight of Hannibal. Will ends up taxidermying the fish, a hobby his father took up when Will was small, petrified animals of all kind lined the walls of their home. The stitches once the skin is reapplied are not as good as if his father had done them, but it holds the sawdust in well enough. Will smiles as he mounts it to a sanded off slab of driftwood from the beach, right above his bed, colors bright with dried paint. It's nice to look at and not feel so alone. A gift from a friend. His first.

Midnight walks. Grilled vegetables. Good books. All Will needs for survival, and yet, more and more he finds himself looking out at the water, searching for Hannibal. For smooth flesh and sharp teeth. More and more Will finds he needs Hannibal for survival as well.

Will lies in bed, eyes staring up at the mounted fish and he breathes. He thinks of touching Hannibal’s mouth. He bites his own lip at the memory. The sudden ache he felt to touch such a wondrous creature. Will closes his eyes and touches his palm to his mouth as if to hold in a cry. He doesn't think, just licks the skin of his hand, between his fingers and fists his cock before he can stop himself. 

Many colorful images flash around in Will’s mind, pink and silver flesh, blue lips, meat red cocks, flush with need, breaching Will’s hole, one, maybe both of his cocks spreading him open. Will moans as he works himself faster and faster. The thought of being so full, taken by an animal. He cries out as he comes, hissing through the aftershocks. He had never come so hard or so quickly in his life. He misses his Hannibal.

* 

Will shops for provisions as early as possible to avoid any kind of crowd. People are not his strongest forte. He brings his own canvas bags for food. He fills them with fruit and vegetables and eats an apple on his way back to the lighthouse. 

Not far from the docking pier, Will sees Hannibal. He stands on the pier, unashamed and unafraid; there is nobody around to see him but Will. He shines in the early sun. Hannibal is tall, muscular and extravagant. Will goes to him, almost pulled there by some invisible string. His face flushes at the activities of last night and he sets his bags down.

“Hannibal.”

Hannibal splashes back down in the water but doesn't swim away. Will thinks he just wanted to be noticed and once was, retreats to the safety of the water. Will sits on the pier. He takes his socks and boots off and dangles his feet in the water. There is no sound but waves crashing. It is too early for the world.

“You probably don't understand, but I've missed you.”

Hannibal touches Will’s ankle, softly. He is mesmerized by the hair there. He licks up Will’s shin with a split tongue, making the man shiver and go still. 

“You missed me too, then.”

Hannibal licks Will again, this time smacking his tongue at the taste of human saltiness. Will is part afraid, part exhilarated. He tells himself to not enjoy the way the tongue feels, but scaring away people with a shotgun doesn't get him laid very often and the stimulation becomes too much as Hannibal licks the other ankle over and over. Will touches Hannibal’s face to get him to stop. Hannibal looks at Will with what seems to be hope in his eyes. 

Will is not a daring man, but he dares now to press his lips to Hannibal’s, gently, cautiously. His breath catches in his throat and his dick twitches in his pants, half hard for this shark of a man. He discards his apple and sinks into the water, hands held to Hannibal’s cool face.  
Wills heart hammers in his throat as he feels Hannibal’s arms snake around him as well. Without much thought, Will reaches down into the water to get his hands on Hannibal’s cocks. His hand doesn't wrap around both, but he makes his touch known, firm grip eased by the water. He huffs out a sharp breath as Hannibal makes a growling sound from deep within his chest. There is an animal in Will as well.

He shucks his pants and throws them to the dock. His own cock leaks underwater. He controls his breathing, and Hannibal allows Will to maneuver him until he is under the water, both cocks brushing against Will’s hole. He moans as the animal takes over, knows how to fuck from here. Will’s head spins as Hannibal bucks up into him, inch by inch. The creature howls under the crashing waves and Will sits on his dick, the pain easing as he is filled. 

Hannibal keeps them afloat. He fucks into Will in fast, heartbreaking motions, the ridges of his dick opening Will further, both of them incoherent with the feel of it. Will reaches for the other cock, pumping it slowly just to feel it hard in his hand. He circles his hips and Hannibal brushes his prostate, making him sweat and buck. 

“Hannibal, make me come, fuck me, make me come.” Will moans into the morning air. It's so good he could cry. His fingers touch just behind the second cock and he finds a hole, a cunt to slip his fingers into. 

“Oh fuck, I can fuck you. Huh, I can finger your little cunt while you take me just like this.” He groans deeply as he slips three fingers into Hannibal, warm inside and tight. The thought alone of being inside this animal while he too is inside Will makes his mind ache. Hannibal seems to enjoy getting fucked. He thrashes and writhes at Will’s fingers curling inside him.  
Hannibal hits that wonderful sweet spot in Will twice more and he is coming, back arched, fingers never slowing down in Hannibal. He watches amused as Hannibal bites at his come in the water and then he is being filled up as he's never known. Hannibal comes hard and Will can feel it inside him. He lets Hannibal ride it out. His orgasm lasts forever. 

Both sated, Will and his numb legs swim over to the pier. Hannibal follows. He can feel Hannibal at his back. He rests his head on the edge of the wood and Hannibal rests his own head on Will’s shoulder. He grumbles in a language that sounds like hieroglyphs look. Will smiles.

Hannibal swims away. Will puts his pants back on in the water and takes a nap to dry off in the sun. He dreams of Hannibal, as he always does lately and smiles in his sleep. 

Living in a lighthouse, some say is a lonely existence. Will knows better than that.


End file.
